


A Stolen Moment

by orphan_account



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Crack, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-21
Updated: 2014-11-21
Packaged: 2018-02-26 12:18:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2651801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's exactly what it says in the tags: Nedbert. Fucking. Jaime makes a guest appearance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Stolen Moment

Lord Eddard Stark slid his calloused hand up King Robert’s muscular thigh. “Are you certain, Your Grace?” he whispered, his mouth inches from Robert’s ear. The sensation of Ned’s warm breath over his skin made Robert shiver. They were in the last stall of the stables, the smell of snow, manure and sweat thick in the air. The two men did not notice. They were wrapped up in each other, chest against chest, heart against heart.

Robert of the House Baratheon, First of his Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, threaded his thick fingers through Ned’s soft brown hair and pressed their mouths together, reveling in the taste of ale on his tongue. “I know what I want, Ned,” he said.

He had never known how much he wanted this until today, when he and his retinue had arrived in Winterfell after a long and arduous journey. He had visited Lyanna’s tomb, expecting it to give him some kind of closure, but her memory was nearer than it had ever been. The wound was still fresh, still burning, and Robert had found that the sight of his old friend, changed as he was by the years, soothed the pain in his chest. Though he lacked Lya’s fierce nature, Ned had her kind grey eyes and the easy smile she had very rarely bestowed upon him.

It had been nothing to lead his friend away to the stables under the pretext of inspecting his horses, away from the disdainful eyes of the lions that followed him. Later, he would find some buxom wench to while his night away with, but now, he thought of nothing but Ned.

A low growling sound came from the back of Ned’s throat as Robert’s tongue danced in his mouth. _Like the snarl of a wolf_ , Robert thought. Briefly, he imagined himself as a stag, proud horns jutting in the air, mounting a surly direwolf, but in a moment, Ned had whirled him around and slammed him hard against the stable wall, and Robert realized that was not the way of it at all.

Ned’s hands were at Robert’s ample waist, unbuckling the gilded belt that held his breeches up. In no time at all, his lower half was exposed to the chilly Northern air and his cock was in Ned’s warm hand, growing harder by the minute. Ned gave it a few rough strokes before dropping his hands to his own waist and bringing his own manhood out. Robert could not help but gape at how large and hard Ned’s cock was. He wanted to put it in his mouth, the way Cersei did so often. He wondered how it would feel inside him, and the idea sent a chill down his body and straight to his protruding hardness.

“Ned,” he breathed. It was all he could say, for all other thought had fled from him.

His friend’s eyes darkened into the color of a storm. “On the floor, Your Grace.”

“What?”

Ned pumped his cock and watched him lustfully. _Is this what I look like when I fuck a woman?_ “Get on your hands and knees, Robert.”

Robert wanted to protest. No one should be able to speak that way to the King of the Seven Kingdoms, not even his oldest, dearest friend. He wanted to say _something_. But all he could do was lower himself to his knees, lean forward on his hands, and thrust his ass up, his body shaking all over. He heard Ned get down to his knees behind him and finally felt him, the warm tip of his cock, pressing against his hole. A stab of panic coursed through him. He almost stood up, almost pushed Ned away, but he wanted it. _Gods, I do. Fuck me._ “Do it, Ned,” he grunted.

He had never hated a Lannister more, and he was sure he never would, than when he heard Ser Jaime’s voice at the front of the stables. “Your Grace?”

Ned scrambled away from him and helped him to his feet. The jangle of their buckles was as loud as thunder to Robert’s ears as they rushed to dress. He was thankful for the thick winter furs he wore because his hard cock strained noticeably against his trousers.

Jaime Lannister’s mocking golden face appeared at the last stall just in time to see them perfectly attired, as if nothing had happened. He looked them up and down, his eyes surely catching on the bits of straw stuck to their furs, but he said nothing, only smiled that insufferable smirk of his, the one he shared with both his siblings.

Robert had no patience for it. “What is it, Kingslayer?” he snapped.

“Lady Stark wonders if you’ll join her for a refreshment.” Jaime’s face settled into a haughty grimace. “Unless you’re busy?”

“No,” Ned said. “We’ll be there shortly.”

Jaime grinned and walked away, his snow-white cloak swirling behind him.

“I can’t stand that man,” Robert muttered.

“It is a shame that you have to put up with him for the sake of your wife.”

The sorrow that had been dancing around him all day pressed against Robert’s chest with the heavy pain of finality. “If only Lyanna had lived,” he said, “things would have been so different.”

Ned turned his sad grey eyes to him and shook his head. “There’s no use in wondering.” He reached out and squeezed Robert’s fingers before turning around and following the Kingslayer.

Robert stayed in the stall for a moment longer, feeling a last breath of life, of opportunity, slip through his fingers. _If only._


End file.
